


Like Someone in Love

by lemmasyne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, M/M, Post-Season/Series 15, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26321371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemmasyne/pseuds/lemmasyne
Summary: Alarm goes off at seven.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 110





	Like Someone in Love

**Author's Note:**

> Coda to an acceptably happy ending.

Sam woke in a crepuscular hour with Dean’s nose pressed against the back of his neck, and Dean’s hand on his lower abdomen, his rough, warm fingertips making little circles. He palmed Sam through his boxers. “Morning," he said.

“Not yet,” said Dean.

He jerked him off in long strokes all the way up to the root. Sam felt his dick pressing against his own back, and pushed back, encouraging him to move against him, and Dean laughed and rolled him over onto his back. “Wanna blow you," he said.

“Romantic."

Dean, between his legs, kissed the inside of his thigh. “Because romantic totally gets you off.”

One of his thighs on each shoulder, he took the head of Sam’s dick in his mouth, and Sam moaned, partly to gratify him, partly because it felt good, because he couldn’t help it, because Dean – eyes, mouth, hands – had never lacked the power to undo him.

Afterwards, he fell back asleep, his head in Dean’s armpit. When he woke again, the clock said six fifty five, and Dean had rolled over onto his side, facing away from him. He was so log-like that Sam reached over him to forestall the alarm. He didn't get up either. Just lay there, looking at him. Sometimes it struck him still how alike they looked.

_You’re sleeping with your brother?_

Still his brother.

_You and your brother are… together?_

_Yeah._

What could they possibly know? “Brother” didn’t mean what it had. “Brother” only meant Dean.

Sam reached out to touch his warm, pale skin. He rested his hand on his hip, and kissed his back. Dean woke again, reaching back to cover his hand with his own and making him grip his hip more tightly. So that he could pull him over onto his back. Kiss him.

“Sammy.”

And while Dean was distracted, get one knee over him and press him into the bed, and scrape his teeth over his neck, so that Dean’s hands twisted in his hair; to give him something to do, because he was restless in so submissive a position, while Sam pulled down his boxers.

And then, like this, gently pushing his legs apart, one fingertip against his asshole, and on cue Dean’s next breath sounded like a sigh. He pushed the first joint of his finger inside.

“Do it fast,” he said. “Goddamnit, I mean it.”

Sam opened him up slowly anyway. It was seven twenty, and he had three fingers inside him, and the other hand on the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean’s back was pressed against his chest.

When they fucked and his dick was inside Dean, and they could come no closer: that and only that was the culmination. He didn’t want to come down, and he didn’t want to separate. It didn’t feel like fucking, it felt like forgetting who they were. It was nothing-ness. It was making peace with death.

Dean’s hand was in his hair, pushing it off his forehead, and his other hand was on his ass as they moved together.

“Can you –” he said. Sam stroked him a few times, hard, and he came with a shudder, clenching around him. When he followed for the second time that morning, Dean moaned, his breath on Sam's lips. “Jesus Christ, Sam.” He took his weight as Sam went boneless. Sam's face was pressed against his neck, and Dean was hugging him, and Sam could feel his heart thumping against his own chest. It was Dean’s body, Dean’s mind. Separateness – the state of being several and distinct. The heartbeat of the other as the proof of. The heartbeat as the proof of life.

The comforter was still on the floor. For the second time, he fell back asleep, head on Dean’s chest, Dean’s hand spread warm and desperate on his stomach.


End file.
